


Taking Care

by GhostCrumpet



Series: Taserbones [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Brock Rumlow, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Brock Redemption, F/M, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, HYDRA Trash Party, Hydra (Marvel), Murder Kitten Darcy, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Redemption, Trauma bond, brock rumlow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCrumpet/pseuds/GhostCrumpet
Summary: He's an Alpha in rut. She's an Omega kidnapped by Hydra for his exclusive use.Trigger warnings: all of them. All the things.A re-posting of a fic from last year. Now with an upcoming chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

“Yeah boss. Yeah she’s awake.”

_ Of course I’m awake, fuck face, _ Darcy Lewis thought, curled in the corner of the cold, basement room. She was actually grateful for the temperature. She’d been off her suppressants for ten days, and she was starting to run a mild, low-grade fever as her heat began to set in.

“Yep. Just sittin’ in her nest. She’s curled up. Looks like she’s asleep, but she’s not. You can hear me, can’t you girl?”

He was sprawled on his seat, legs wide, on his phone, across the room from her, separated by a wall of spiky, barbed chicken wire with a metal door frame cut out for when she was given her meals. A bucket in the corner had served for her toilet. Someone came to clean it, she figured, although that happened while she slept.

She raised her head to glare at the man who was sitting at the card table, dealing himself hand after hand of solitaire as he spoke.

“She’s giving me that evil eye of hers. Awww, sweetie, don’t look so mad. How’s that fever coming?” The beta turned to her as he spoke, a smirk on his face. Fucking _ ugly _ face, with a shock of wimpy blonde hair on top of his head, and a nose that looked like someone had broken it three times. She hoped it hurt.

“Fuck off,” she snapped, but he just laughed, and she curled back up in the mess of sleeping bag and blankets they’d given her, on top of the thin foam insulate that had kept the heat from leeching out of her body too badly. She burrowed under them, not that she needed the warmth, but to hide from his gaze. He was one of five that watched over her, all taking their turns at ‘central command’ as she’d called it sarcastically, their shitty little folding card table in their shitty ass basement.

They’d pinched her right outside of Avengers Tower, where, like a complete fucking idiot, she’d been duped into taking a photo for a sweet gay alpha-omega couple on their honeymoon, who’d turned out to be apparently evil agents from terrorist organization number _ something _ . It was her fault for being a total fag hag, really.

A bag over her head, a long bumpy ride in the back of a padded van, and she’d been searched impersonally, had her suppressant patch ripped off her skin, and dumped in this shit hole to eat shitty ramen for days.

One of the guards, apparently feeling some sort of pity for her, had snuck her a copy of  _ Hello! _ but it was the British edition, and she didn’t know anybody featured in it other than the Duchess of Cambridge.

So her days had gone, visited mostly by beta guards, and the occasional bonded alpha who sniffed the air and made her feel dirty by the appraising looks they gave her. They knew her suppressants had worn off, and they were… waiting. There were so many “helpless beta gets kidnapped” horror movies, where sometimes an omega would be tossed, in full heat, into a room of rutting alphas so they’d fight and the strongest would knot the omega at the end. The thought made her shudder. She’d even watched a few horror movies, and laughed at them with Jane, because, that wasn’t anything like real life, right? A shiver ran through her. Apparently not as far removed reality as she thought.

“Yeah, I’d get down here. I’d say another 12 hours? Max? She’s looking a little shifty, and she’s definitely nesting.”

Fuck she hated betas. Always acted like they were so immune to hormones, because they were, and that they were somehow superior for not being controlled by her nethers. Another shiver hit her, and she closed her eyes tightly and whimpered. The second day without the patch she’d had to face it. They were holding her to let her go into heat, probably so someone, an Alpha, could knot her. So she’d waited, trying to keep a handle on her anxiety, because that would only make her heat come on  _ faster _ , and had barely eaten the food they’d given her to also slow down the advent of her heat. They’d been a bit pissed at that, but none of them had made mention of say, tube feeding, and physically they’d left her alone.

“How’s he doing? Haaaaa… yeah. I’ll get her ready if he wants to come down now.” She jerked her head up at that, staring at him. The beta shifted up onto his feet and grinned at her, ending his call. “Alright sweetie, it’s your time to shine. Rumlow’s going into rut, and you’re going to make him better so he can get back to what he does best.” He walked over to the door of her cell and terror ran right down her spine. She hissed out a breath.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you spineless motherfucker,” she growled out. She’d been with alphas before, never let them bond with her though even during a heat, and it had always been consenting. The suppressants had just made life easier in the last year of her college and when working with Jane, so she could stay focused on life and not on rubbing up against some poor alpha’s leg at that time of the month. Her heats were a little easier to bear as well, they didn’t make her totally mindless, and even though she knew she was right on the cusp of one, she only felt the slight thrill of arousal in her gut.

“Awww honey. All the pretty omegas say that. Trust me. It’ll be fine. He’s rutting, it’ll trigger your heat fully, you guys will fuck it out for a few days, and then you can be on your way and he’s back in business. Everyone’s happy, no harm, no foul.” He unlocked the door and she tensed, ready to pounce on him, use her nails, defend herself,  _ whatever _ , so she could escape. He was watching her though so he pulled out his gun from his hip holster. “Trust me, this guy? The girls never complain when he’s done. So, you know what, in advance, I’ll say  _ you’re welcome _ . He might just ruin you for all other alphas, if you know what I mean.”

She growled a little, and he snickered, walking into her cell and pointing the gun at her, motioning for her to get to her feet.

“So you guys do this often then?” she asked, as she stood up slowly. There was no way she could kill him if he shot her. And with her luck, it wouldn’t be a fatal shot, just enough to incapacitate her so this Rumlow asshole could knot her anyway. The beta just grinned.

“Every three months. The man’s like clockwork. They could literally set Big Ben by his dick. I’m going to take you on up to his room, and you’re going to wash up and make yourself look good, because we’ve had a streak of him not rejecting any of our picks for the last two years, and I’m sure as shit not starting now. Out you get. Up the stairs.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as he stepped closer to her.

“What happens to your picks he rejects?” she asked, as she moved around, keeping a distance from him as she headed towards the door as instructed. The man just grinned. “Great,” she muttered and walked up the stairs. He followed her closely behind, his gun, no doubt, trained on her back. She was in a simple bungalow, although the curtains were pulled across the windows in the living room when she emerged from downstairs, and the front door had iron bars crossing it from the inside.

“Down the hall, to your left,” the beta was right behind her, and she stiffened, following his directions and passing a few open bedrooms. It smelled… different… a faint hint of tobacco and sandalwood on the air. The scent got stronger as she walked down the hall, and stopped at the far door. “Bathroom’s inside on the right. Make yourself presentable. You’ll know when he gets here. Should be thirty minutes, give or take.” She looked over her shoulder at him and narrowed her eyes. He just shrugged his shoulders and smirked. “Have fun?”

She responded with a curse that made him snort, and then she opened up the door to a plain bedroom. The scent was stronger in here, and it stuck to the back of her throat, made the heat in her stomach furl outwards a little. Darcy took a slow, shuddery breath and stepped in, shutting the door behind her. The room was… clean, at least, cleaner than the basement, with plain hardwood floors, a low kingsize bed with slate gray sheets, a single matching pillow, and a red blanket folded up at the end. The windows had bars on them, hell, they were more bar than window, and a bed-side table had a clock that blinked 12:00, nothing else. It did not look like the den of the rapist. It just looked… boring. Mundane. She swallowed and tried to make sense of that.

There was a tiny pile of clothing, all new with tags still attached, on top of the blanket.  _ Oh fucking serious _ , they wanted her to…  _ Jesus _ . This was exactly like a terrible porn. She walked over to them and picked them up. Lacy black underwear, a matching balconette bra that would do absolutely nothing to contain her breasts, and a pair of stockings. The only thing that made her feel mildly better was the plain gray t-shirt, and simple white cotton underwear and plain blue sweatpants. Obviously those were for, y’know, after.  _ How fucking thoughtful _ . With a snort she threw the lace lingerie under the bed, because fuck that, and went to the bathroom with the rest of the clothes.

The bathroom was as plain as the bedroom. A white shower curtain, a stand alone sink with a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste still in their packaging. A pink razor, new, and some toiletries.

“Better let the omega wash up,” she muttered, “can’t have an alpha rape a dirty fucking omega.” Her heart clenched a little and she went through the motions of showering and cleaning herself off, those small acts of personal hygiene going a long way to making herself feel better. The burning sensation in her groin wasn’t going away, and seemed to be mounting along with her anxiety. She stared in the mirror as she pulled her damp hair away from her face after yanking the tshirt and underwear on.

“You can do this,” she whispered to the girl in the mirror, seeing a blank expression looking back out her, her face a complete lie given the panic that was bubbling right below the surface. Crying wasn’t going to change it. Screaming wasn’t going to fix it. But facing up to it, just then, had her wanting to vomit, or curl in the corner and sob hysterically. A shiver ran through her and one tear escaped, tracking down her cheek.

The bedroom door banged open, hitting the wall hard, and she turned with a yelp, fingers clutched in the sweatpants she’d been about to put on. The scent,  _ his scent _ , washed over her, as she stared out into the bedroom at him, and a whine escaped the back of her throat, as her body answered with a flood of heat hormones.  _ Fuck _ .

It didn’t help that he was actually attractive. After the meat bags who’d been guarding her, she’d hadn’t had a single hope in hell of finding the alpha they’d grabbed her for hot in any way, but he was. Toned, and fit, muscles that Thor might, well not envy, but at least admire and think positively upon the man’s workout regime, broad shoulders that held his arms away from his body-

“It’s you,” he said when she stepped up to the door frame, and he looked at her like he knew her. “For fucks sake, those mouth-breathing  _ idiots _ .” She wanted to ask what he meant, but was too caught in the heat of his glare. He walked into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, fingers falling to his belt and he growled low in his throat. That sound made her breath catch in her chest and she had to grab onto the doorframe to steady herself, dropping the sweatpants to the floor. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, eyes trailing down her body with no small amount appreciation, and she shivered with want as he practically fucked her with his gaze.

_ I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this _ , she said to herself, but her body wholly disagreed. She took steps into the middle of the room and dropped to the edge of the bed on her knees, biology kicking in and taking over for her, even when she was freaking out in the back of her mind. Her breathing was coming in short, sharp gasps through her mouth and she pressed her forehead to the sheet, their scent clean and also  _ him _ , as her knees slid apart and her eyes shut tight while she presented for him.  _ I hate this, I hate this _ , but she didn’t, couldn’t hate it, instead need raced up and down her abs, to clench tightly in her cunt. Her fingers reached out and curled around the pillow, hanging onto it tight as she felt him walk up to the edge of the bed.

“Ah-” she twitched when his hand landed on the side of her ass, his fingers burning hot against her skin. She scrunched her eyes closed tighter and leaned into his touch. Ugh, it felt good, it had been too long since her last heat, well over a year since she’d let herself go, and his scent was fucking amazing. His fingers curved around, digging into the meat of her flesh and then he whipped his other hand down on the other side of her rear, cracking her across the ass hard. She cried out, surging down and forward into the mattress, startled with the flash of heat that spread out from where he’d hit her right to her clit. “ _ Jesus _ , what the fuck-?” she choked out, but her words died to a whimper when he dragged her underwear away from her skin and down, letting them snap around her thighs, half-way to her knees.

“There’s a good omega,” he purred and stroked his hand over the flushing skin of her ass, sliding it down to cup where it met her thigh, fingers dipping in between her legs and spreading to expose her inner labia and the center of her heat. She shuddered and fought to not push back, not push into his hand as a thumb stroked along her from her entrance to her clit.

“Oh  _ god _ , aren’t you… what the fuck, man… like, foreplay, it’s a thing, I mean-” her words cut off with a low cry when his thumb slid into her, her hips arching and lowering as he fucked it into her in an almost languid manner.

“With you this wet? Don’t even need to bother, kitten,” he rumbled and he hooked his thumb down, pressing it towards the front of her body, catching on a ridge inside her that made her knees jerk to get away as intense pleasure jolted through her.

“Uhn, no- please,” the words were begging out of her before she could stop them, and his arm slid under her belly, pressing against the tops of her thighs to prevent her from going anywhere as he rubbed inside of her with his thumb. He was dragging sharp noises out of her, and everything was focused on his hands on her body, and the growing wall of intense tight heat rising up inside her. She wanted to hate it, hate him, lash out at him, kick and bite and scream, but all she could do was writhe on his sheets, begging him to stop but not stop,  _ please don’t stop _ . She heard the low burr of his laughter in her ear as two of his fingers slipped on either side of her clit, slick with her arousal as it ran down his hand, and shame burnt across her cheeks. “Asshole,” she whispered, as he played her body, and she tried not to cry. It felt so good, being near him felt so damn good, and she was torn between hating him and wanting to beg him to knot her.

“What was that, sweetheart?” he asked, bending low over her back, the rough cotton of his shirt rubbing against her spine. “You want me to fuck you in your ass? Kinky shit for a first date.” She shuddered and shook her head as his fingers stilled on her, warm and thick and denying her anything further than blunt pressure.

“Oh god please don’t,” she hid her face in the sheets as he kissed down the side of her neck, and she thrust back against him, hungry for friction, needing to be filled and fucked  _ hard _ by her alpha. She whined, low and helpless as he pulled away, hands leaving her body as he shucked his t-shirt off, throwing it to the floor beside the bed, and undid the button of his jeans.

“Good girl,” he murmured, stroking a hand over her trembling skin when she shifted her knees further apart, trying to present again, trying to convince him to take her to,

“Please, alpha,  _ please _ ,” she begged brokenly. She felt like she was going to explode, waiting for him as he smoothed his hands down the backs of her thighs and then curled them around the sides, pulling her fast to him. His cock, hard and firm pressed over the wet skin of her cunt and she whimpered as he teased her, rubbing lightly against her, resting the head over her entrance.

“Ask me,” he said, voice heavy with need for  _ her _ because she was  _ his _ , his omega, all his, and she squirmed, trying to push back onto his erection.

“Please,” she repeated, tilting her hips towards him.

“Ask. Say, Brock, please fuck me,” he growled.

“Please… please Brock, please fuck m-” she threw her head back and screamed as he bore down into her, spreading her open and forcing her against the mattress in one long hard thrust. Fuck it  _ burned _ , in the best way, and she kicked her feet out, his hands sliding under her stomach to catch her, hold her tight to him, lifting her a little off the bed so she had no leverage to pull or push.

“That’s a girl,” he said, not even sounding out of breath, and she craned her neck, trying to see his face, to see what sort of alpha could be in full damn rut and be so in control. He watched her with his dark eyes, a smirk on his face as she squirmed against him, swinging her knees to try and get back down to the mattress. Her movement caused him to breathe out hard, and he surged up, kneeling at his full height, hauling her along with him. She felt more than slightly helpless, legs dangling uselessly along his. All she could do was squirm in his grip, hands grasping at the sheets as he pulled her off the length of his cock and then back along it to press against his hips. The size of him, took the breath out of her lungs and she gave a little choked cry as he did it again, working himself in and out of her. Even with how wet he’d made her, he hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time getting her ready for it, and her muscles were taut around him, skin dragging on his in a way that bordered pain.

But each thrust lit up her spine regardless that it hurt a little, and as he held onto her, fucking her in mid-air, it turned into mindless heat that had her mewling and kicking out in his grip. She wanted him, wanted him so badly when he pressed flush against her ass, the backs of her thighs, even as his grip on her tightened and he relentlessly pounded into her hard, harder,  _ harder _ .

The noises she was making were becoming hoarse, hysterical, her breaths sobbing out of her with each hard push of him into her, and he finally let her down onto the mattress, hands going to the backs of her shoulders as he pressed her into the sheets until she could barely breathe.

“Oh, g-” Darcy couldn’t even form the full words as he bore down on her, and then screamed again, back arching, when she felt the slight swelling inside of her that marked the beginning of his knot. He was silent in response, just his slow even breaths that were out of time with his thrusts, until he stilled in her and she could feel the hot wash of him coming in her, the only other sign being his fingers digging painfully into her shoulders. She whined, squirmed, wriggled her hips against him, tried to make him move as she needed it,  _ needed to come _ , needed him to get her off. He pressed his forehead to the back of her neck, and then his cheek, his lips rubbing over her shoulder until she tilted her head, exposing herself to him with a helpless cry. She was out of her fucking  _ mind _ with wanting him, every inch of her shaking and trembling for him, and she wanted to beg, tell him to take her again, and again, but her voice wouldn’t work.

His teeth grazed her pulse point and something snapped in her and she shrieked as his teeth sank down.

_ No no, oh god n-,  _ she felt the skin break and suddenly she was jerking against him, body responding to an alpha-omega bond falling into place, hot waves of tightness spreading through her, her cunt clamping down on him, she needed it, she hated him, she- 

“S-stop,” she cried out weakly, but it was too late, and he pressed her down into the mattress, cock shifting inside of her as her knees gave out and sprawled across the sheets with him on top of her. He lifted his head and licked at the bite, the nuzzled it, and she was shocked at the flood of warmth, soothing, that rolled across her body as she responded, pressing into his face. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks and she shuddered, in fear and happiness all at once. His thumb smeared across her face, trying to dry it uselessly as she started to sob, stuck under him, stuck to him, stuck to him for  _ life _ . He nuzzled at her again, trying to comfort her, his omega, but she shook her head. She didn’t want this… hadn’t wanted this… it was… it was bad enough to be kidnapped, and held for some alpha to use but-

“I had to,” he said as she hiccuped, his thumb tracing back and forth along her jaw. “You’re with those Avenger assholes. I’da had to kill you.” She froze and swallowed.

“Wha… what?”

“You’re Darcy Lewis. You run with Thor and his lady.” His lips pressed against her cheek and then against her ear, carefully, comfortingly. “Couldn’t let you go running back to them, telling them anything.”

She shivered and he reached down, yanking at the folded blanket until it was covering them, and he rolled them both onto their sides, still latched fast together as their bond completed. His arms coiled around her and he pulled back against his chest as she went quiet, tried to… figure out what to do… what her options were. A murderer, some sort of killer, a bad guy, obviously, who knew of the Avengers, was probably aligned with their enemies, or was their enemy, her  _ alpha _ . Her throat closed up and she made a helpless noise, about to dissolve into tears again.

“Shhh, shhh,” he said into her hair, hands sliding up to cradle her against him, the bond, the mating, obviously flooding him with protective hormones as well. Maybe that was the only thing that had saved her life. Maybe she should be fucking  _ grateful _ . “I gotcha. Gonna take care of you.” He laid kisses down the side of her face and her heart warred with hatred and a small fragile blossom of hope.

“That’s what I’m scared of,” she finally said, her lips dry and a little cracked. He just sighed out in response, curving his arm along her side, to wrap around the top of her thigh and held her close.


	2. Chapter 2

The girl had finally cried herself to sleep after their first coupling, although to say she’d  _ cried _ was a bit of a stretch. Tears had just slipped silently down her face as she trembled in his arms, and nothing he could do or say would comfort her. It had been… distressing, and Rumlow did not deal well with being distressed. It was an emotion he hadn’t even bothered thinking about for years, and it had swollen up in his gut, made him wrap around her and pin her down, mouthing lightly over her bond mark which soothed her some, at least until she’d started squirming in the next waves of her heat and he’d taken her on her stomach, making her  _ scream _ and beg for him again.

Having her in his arms made his heart beat hard, his breath catching in his throat every time he made her tighten around him, fire burning in his chest when she cried out his name. The girl had cried out that she hated him, that she’d wished he’d killed her,  _ why hadn’t he killed her _ … he’d been hard pressed to respond to that, and so he’d just fucked her into silence. He couldn’t tell her why he hadn’t just snapped her neck and been done with it. All he’d felt before biting into her skin had been an intense need to protect her, and the knowledge that once he was done, his employers would have to dispose of her. They wouldn’t allow for anyone connected with the Avengers to even see him and live, let alone someone he had slept with under dubious consent. Stupid alpha instincts. Fucking  _ stupid _ alpha instincts. What did he need a mate for? A mate was a liability for a mercenary. An unacceptable liability, one that would make his employers look twice at him.

Still, he… liked her. Something about her piqued his interest, in the few rare moments she wasn’t telling him how much she hated his guts, or he wasn’t taking her apart on his cock, and she wasn’t silently crying… between all of  _ that _ , she was… different. She was fiery. She gave as good as she got. He’d bite her and she’d bite back twice as hard, and the intensity of their coupling had extended his rut a full two extra days, which normally didn’t happen.

The girl had been so worn down by the end of it, from the days underneath him, the scant meals and water barely keeping her fueled enough to match pace with him. She’d just cried out weakly on the last night of her heat, little small noises and whines from a wrecked throat. She’d lain on her stomach, waiting for him to take her, unable to even present on her knees properly for him. Rumlow felt slightly guilty for that, he’d never left an omega in such a state before, he’d usually taken more care to… pace himself, but with her his control had been out the window. Still, she’d left her mark on him at the beginning, nail tracks down his back, scores of small bites and crescent nicks in his skin that he treasured when he’d surveyed himself in the mirror while she slept off the last of her heat.

Now, he watched her doze, curled around the pillow that he’d finally let her have… during his rut he had made her sleep with her head nestled on his arm or his chest. Her hair was lank, and she could’ve done with a good shower to wash away the exertions of her heat, but he didn’t want to get her up. She needed her rest, while he needed to make some decisions and check in with his employers. Satisfied she’d be dreaming for at least a little while longer, he showered, changed, and walked out into the main living areas of the bungalow. Two low-level operatives, both betas, were in the kitchen, talking quietly between themselves. He stalked to the fridge and ripped the notepad off of it, grabbing a pen and quickly scribbled out a list.

“I need these things,” he said, slapping the paper down on the table hard. Both betas had watched him warily as he’d walked in, and they both stared at the paper like it would bite them if they touched it.

“So good heat then, boss? She was a sweet one. Would’a done her myself to get her lathered up for you, but I figured she was coming along nicely anyway. Think you can spare any leftovers? I wouldn’t mind some sloppy sec- _ gurk _ ,” the beta stopped talking as Brock reached down, wrapping his hand around his throat and squeezing.

“You will shut the fuck up, and go the fuck out, and get this list of shit I need,  _ now _ ,” he growled, as the other beta scrambled to his feet and grabbed the list. The one he was holding onto turned red and nodded. He let him go and stood back. “And be quick about it,” he said as he walked to the fridge again, pulling it open and grabbing out a beer, opening it on the edge of the counter.

“What do you want us to do with the girl?” The other beta stood in the doorway, hands fingering his gun on his hip. Brock sighed and leaned back against the fridge, taking a long pull on his beer.

“Nothing. She’s my problem. Just get that shit, and… get back here.” He sighed as the two looked at one another and then headed out. The house was blessedly quiet. Rumlow had to think, had to figure out what to do with the sleeping girl  _ that he’d fucking bonded _ , and what his next steps were. Obviously letting her go was out of the question, but of all the fucked up things he’d done or considered doing, trauma-bonding someone in the middle of a rut was not one of them. This was a situation he’d never even considered. All the other girls had been damn grateful of his cock, and of the money that whomever was employing him at the time gave them; they’d gone back to their lives and had  _ never _ tried to look him up, at least that he knew of. But this time, the betas assigned to him had followed a different sort of protocol in acquiring him an omega, one that he had never approved. His latest employer was… unusual in that regards. He would raise the point with him at the next opportunity, although given that he now had a bonded mate did it even matter... he rubbed his face with a groan. He was getting a headache.

The normal chain of events to getting rid of his rut-mate wouldn’t have worked in this scenario even if he hadn’t bonded with her. At some point, someone within one of the organizations he worked for would have found out who she was even if she didn’t say anything about what had happened to her (and given that her running her mouth was legendary in the superhero world, that would have been a fucking miracle), and her life would have been over. That thought made his gut clench, in complete contradiction to his normal don’t-give-a-fuck practicality. Even still, the bonding was a tenuous grasp on keeping her safe, and he needed to get her out of reach of any of his employers and their flunkies, before someone figured her out or she opened her damn mouth at the wrong time to sass someone.

He downed the rest of his beer and looked in the fridge again, and began putting together a plate of food for her, some simple protein and carbs to get her system back online and working. His gut clenched a little at the thought of her hungry and exhausted and not able to even call out for him, and he growled. He did not have… time, or the caring to be a nursemaid to a newly bonded omega. He did not  _ want _ to want to take care of his newly bonded omega, but at the same time he did. Rumlow snarled a little and poured a glass of milk, because he figured that would help replenish her electrolytes, or  _ whatever _ .

He stalked back down the hall and kicked the door open from where he’d pulled it just to the frame earlier, gaze falling on the girl - his  _ mate _ , his  _ Darcy _ . He needed to stop thinking of her as just  _ the girl _ , because she’d never be that again. Not to him. She was just as he’d left her. He put the plate and milk down on the bedside table and hovered a hand over her hair, inhaling her scent which was soothing now rather than straight-up arousing, and brushed the back of his knuckles over her forehead and down the side of her cheek. She frowned a little, brows pulling together, and then jerked back as her eyes opened wide. She rolled over and away from him, dragging the blanket with her and thumped onto the floor. He stood there, stayed still, not giving in to his desire to chase her as much as his instincts were telling him to  _ pounce _ and  _ pin _ . She looked up at him, blue eyes terrified in a way that wrenched his heart out, a heart he’d previously thought had only three modes: murder, eat, fuck. And then she was gone, bolting for the open closet door and buried inside the shadows, away from his gaze.

“Lewis,” he breathed out, and then walked towards the closet with deliberate steps, only pausing when he heard her breath catching, and  _ felt _ in that space ( _ the damn bond _ ) between them, that she was scared… terrified. Of  _ him _ . That wasn’t exactly unusual, he was used to people being terrified of him, of the screams or the wide eyes before he put a bullet between them. This time though, instead of indifference, it made his heart squeeze, wrapped in cold painful fingers and he dropped to his knees just outside the door.

“Don’t-” she whispered from within, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m…” he couldn’t exactly say he was sorry, when he wasn’t, he didn’t feel at all apologetic about what had transpired, because she was  _ his _ , and the hungry desperate need for her consumed any feeling of contrition over bonding her. “I brought you food,” he said after thinking about what neutral-ish thing he could say to her, “and I’d like you to eat. I’ll have some medication for you in about half an hour, and you need to eat before you take it.”

He stopped talking and listened, but she was silent in response. He pushed the plate inside the closet, irritation rising up inside of him. Nothing about a man who killed remorselessly screamed  _ willing to take care of useless silly girl _ , and he was at war with himself to either drag her out of there by her hair or let her stay until she came out on her own. He took a deep breath and decided leaving her be was best, but he was not going to sit by the closet and wait for her.

“I’ll be back in half an hour. You… do what you need to do.” He watched her hand reach out and drag the plate into the shadows. He sighed. For fucks sake. He moved to get up and left the room, so she could… emotionally process, or whatever. Or at least eat some food.

***

The two betas had finally returned, useless fucks that they were, with a bag of the things he’d asked for, and he took it from them without a word, pointedly looking at the kitchen table so they could sit their asses down and not disturb him.

“The gi-” one opened his mouth, and the other elbowed him hard. Brock didn’t even bother responding to that, apparently one was smarter than the other, and would control his partner with minimal involvement on Brock’s part. Considering he had his work cut out for him in the bedroom, convincing the girl to even so much as emerge from the closet… well, he didn’t have time to babysit a couple of betas who were getting a little above their place.

He knocked lightly on the door, cleared his throat, and entered, trying not to dwell on the ridiculousness of it. When had been the last time he’d knocked on any damn door unless as part of a mission? He couldn’t even recall.

The shower was running, the door to the bathroom open a crack, and the empty plate discarded on the bedside table along with the glass. At least she was taking care of herself. Some omegas, post-heat, post… bonding, especially a trauma-bond or a slightly unwanted bond, fell into a depression and did nothing to care for themselves. Some starved themselves to death, simply not eating until they passed. The thought made his jaw clench. That would  _ not _ happen to his Darcy.

Brock walked up to the door and knocked on it loudly.

“Darcy,” he called into the bathroom, “when you’re done I have some things for you here.”

“You stay the fuck out there,” she snapped from inside, and he rubbed a hand over his forehead.

“Just come out when you’re done.” He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. He pulled open the bag and withdrew the prescription vial, a single pill rattling around inside of it. Normally the betas took care of this, he didn’t have to even think of it, because there was no way any of his employers would allow for one of his ruts to result in a child, and considering an alpha-omega mating almost always ended up in pregnancy…

The door to the bathroom opened, and Darcy stared at him, wrapped up tight in an oversized towel from chest to knees. He did his best not to let his gaze run over her, but couldn’t help it as even shrouded in thick terry her curves were lush and obvious. The omega made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, and stalked proudly across the room even though he knew she was nervous and a little frightened of him.

“Clothes are in the closet for you,” he said, looking straight ahead and not over his shoulder at her like he wanted to. She snorted and he heard her yanking open the closet door angrily, the slight screech of metal on metal sounding out. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair before getting up and going into the bathroom to pour her a glass of water for her pill. When he returned she was zipping up an oversized hoodie, one of  _ his _ , and not one of the ones meant for the omega bitches that he’d normally turf after mating. She looked at him with challenge in her expression, and he said nothing about her choice of clothing, especially not because seeing her in his own possessions made his gut curl hungrily.  _ Down _ , he ordered his raging libido. She was in likely in no shape to endure any sort of sexual contact for at least a few days, more like a week, after an intense heat like she’d had. The thought of hurting her overrode his desire to claim her again.

“So,” she said, her jaw tight, and he ached to curve his arms around her and soothe the anger right out of her. He held out the glass of water and the pill jar, and her eyes flicked to it and back to his face. “What’s that?”

“To make sure there’s no long term consequences-”

“You’re a little fucking  _ late _ ,” she cut him off, and he had to swallow an angry retort as he wanted to grab her and force her to obey. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“You can’t come away from this pregnant,” he finally said, opening his eyes and looking at her. Her face paled at his words, and she nodded. Darcy stepped up to him cautiously, and it pained him to see how terrified of him she was. “I’m not gonna knock you to the ground and have my way with you,” he growled out, and she fliched.

“Not like you didn’t already do that,” she muttered, taking the pill jar and cracking it open, the little blue oval landing in her palm. She slapped her hand against her mouth and then grabbed the cup from him, knocking back a gulp of water. She exhaled and then handed him back the cup, which he took silently. “So, what’s the plan,  _ alpha _ ,” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her words. He was close enough to her that he could see she was trembling, probably fighting her own instincts to curl into his side and tuck her head under his chin. His opinion of her rose a few notches; it was a rare omega who could resists the call of her alpha when newly-bonded. Not unheard of, but it took a certain strength of personality to do it,  _ or a paralyzing fear of being hurt _ , his mind supplied unhelpfully.

“Put your socks and shoes on. We’re getting out of here. My employers aren’t going to be happy I bonded someone, and they’ll be wondering why you haven’t been put back where you got grabbed from.” He moved over to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag, already packed with the basic necessities he’d need to go underground for a few weeks. Nothing for a tag-along, certainly nothing befitting his own omega. He’d have to stop somewhere to get her more clothes, underwear, a book maybe, so she’d have something to read… he shook his head and muttered under his breath about the impracticality of alpha hormones and the desire to  _ take care _ that he’d never understood before that very moment.

Brock turned to see she hadn’t moved, and he growled in impatience, walking over to her. She shrunk back into herself and then picked up the socks and running shoes from beside the closet, pulling them on. He nodded in approval when she finally stood, clothed as best he was able to provide for her, and he gestured for her to come to him. She reluctantly stepped up to him, and he opened his mouth to say something, anything, to reassure her, when a loud chorus of voices in the hall made his head jerk up. She instantly moved behind him, clinging to his back. The bedroom door kicked open, and a small group of armed alphas stood there, the two beta guards standing way back in the hall.

“Boys,” Brock said, a low rumbling growl in his throat, his back tensing up. Darcy didn’t make a noise, but was a point of shivering heat behind him.

“Hand the girl over, Rumlow. Your rut is over, and we’ll deal with her from here on out,” said the lead alpha as he stepped into the room. The delicate smell of bonded omega must have hit him, because his eyebrows arched up. Surely the betas would have told them, but maybe the alphas just hadn’t believed them.

“We both know that I’m not gonna do that,” Brock replied, and was rewarded by Darcy clinging tighter to him, a slight flush of trust over the bond they shared. He resisted swelling his chest up with pride  and instead pinned the lead alpha down with a stare. “We are walking out of here. Whether you walk out of here depends on how easy you make the road for me.”

“Rumlow, I’ve got my orders,” the alpha said, swallowing a little at the dead serious look he must’ve seen in Brock’s face. The other alpha stepped forward, fingers tightening on his gun. “I’ll take you down if I have to. Just hand over the omega, and we’ll deal with this problem.”

Brock snarled at that, shoulders coming together, the men across from him shifting in response, preparing themselves to attack. He heard a light click behind him, and the sound of something tiny dropping to the floor. The men never got a chance to lunge, because Darcy’s hand slipped up and wrapped around Brock’s eyes from behind as she threw one of his light grenades that she’d obviously snuck from his duffel when she’d been hiding in the closet earlier. The room was filled with sharp cries as the light blinded everyone but him, and presumably his omega, who let her hand drop immediately after the initial flare. He dropped the duffel on her and barrelled into the stumbling group of men, hands and feet striking out, using his whole body as a weapon as he twisted and turned. He took them down, one by one, with single strikes to sensitive areas, and usually once they were down, they stayed down. Minutes later, they were sprawled, groaning and scratching at the floor blindly, and he huffed, turning back to look at where Darcy stood. She watched him with fear and a small amount of gratitude, holding onto the duffel he’d tossed at her before beginning his assault.

“C’mon. There’ll be a second wave once they figure out the first one went down,” he said, crooking his fingers at her before stepping over the prone bodies to walk down the hallway. Brock didn’t bother looking back, he knew she was following him, and heard the impact of her sneaker and a few grunts as she meted out her own small revenge on them as she went. She caught up to him at the front door. He turned to her and took the duffel, slinging it over his shoulder, and grabbed a set of car keys from a hook on the wall. “When we get outside, act casual. There’s watchers set on all of the safe houses when they’re occupied and the more time we have, the better. They won’t recognize us right away if we’re relaxed.” He reached inside the duffel bag and pulled out two baseball caps, putting one on her and tugging it down low over her eyes, before doing the same for himself. She settled her shoulders a little and took a deep breath. He paused and then reached out, chucking her under the chin gently. A tentative ghost of a smile warmed her expression. “You did good with that light grenade.”

“I was gonna use it on you, don’t let me get another one or I will,” she responded, a hint of sass in her tone. He shook his head and just chuckled, opening the door and stepping out. She followed closely behind him.

The dark-coloured SUV with tinted windows was only a few steps from the house, and the doors clicked as he unlocked it with the dongle. He was about to tell her to get into the back, when she opened the front passenger door and slid in. With a roll of his eyes, he chucked the duffel in the back seat and hopped in the front.

“Buckle up,” he muttered when she just stared at him, the engine roaring to life, and he pulled out of the driveway calmly, as if he wasn’t taking off on his employers after bonding an omega. He really didn’t want to think about what this was going to do to his professional reputation. If he played his cards right, even though he was probably burning himself with his current employer, there would be someone else who’d be willing to take him on, even with a bonded omega at his side. Looking over at her as he drove through the quiet suburban neighbourhood, his gut twisted hungrily, and he knew without a doubt he never wanted to be very far from her.

Darcy settled down, slouching and reached over to turn on the seat warmers for both of them. He snorted and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked, voice sharp, “you’re the only person in the world who  _ doesn’t _ like to have his ass warmed while driving? It’s not like you’re worrying about toasting your swimmers since you made me take that after-heat pill.” She sounded a little irritated, like the fact he’d demanded it of her had angered her. That confused the fuck out of him.

“Don’t tell me that you wanted to carry a pregnancy to term,” he called her bluff, and she growled at him, yanking the hood of her jacket up over her face, slumping down in her seat even further.

“Woulda been nice if you’d at least asked,” she said after a few minutes, in a small voice that tugged at his heart. They drove in silence for about fifteen minutes before he reached over and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She froze for a moment and then relaxed into his touch ever so slightly.

“I can’t have kids, Lewis. A mate was…  _ is _ , or at least should be, out of the question for me. I’m not exactly in the line of work to be a family man.” He was trying to be comforting, but she just gave him a hard side-eye from beneath the hood.

“And what kinda work is that anyway? I’m guessing that you don’t exactly get paid to sleep with omegas or something. So, trained assassin, paramilitary?” From the tone of her voice, he reached out to lock the doors, engaging the high-security protocol so she couldn’t open her door and throw herself out… just in case she thought to be smart. He pulled out onto the highway and headed north.

“People have work, I do the job, I get paid. It’s not always puppy dogs and rainbows, but I’m good at what I do.”

She snorted and looked out the window, curling her knees up onto the seat.

“Work that requires flash grenades, and semi-automatic weapons?” she spoke to the window but didn’t shrug out of the heavy hand he still kept on her shoulder, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was leaning into him a little. He thought how to answer her best, she was quite clearly a little put off by him, and considering she ran with high-minded superheroes, he wasn’t surprised.

“I’m not the kind of man to ask a lot of questions,” he finally said, and before he could stop himself, his heart clenched hard and made him say something ridiculous next, “but I’m thinking maybe I should start.”

She looked at him, as surprised at his admission as he was, and he took his hand off of her to set it on the wheel. He felt the heat of her gaze on the side of his face,  _ felt _ more than heard her lean into him even more, sitting up in her seat. He bit the inside of his cheek when her small hand curled in his lap, wrapping around his thigh, possessive in her own way.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” she said softly, leaving her hand there for a good long time and he dropped his own hand to cup over hers, as they drove north in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until the feeling of the car stopping caused her eyes to flicker open, and awareness of the world to melt back into place. She sat up in her seat with a gasp, Brock’s scent soothing all around her.

“Relax,” he said with a shrug as he slung open his door. “We’re changing it up.” They were at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. She squinted into the dark, that was lit up by a few street lamps. A dingy little office, barely a thousand square feet, had a stream of people waiting outside of it.

“What… are we doing here?” Her mouth felt dry and full of cotton.

“Public transit,” he said, and as he came around to her side of the car, opening the door for her, he passed a bottle of water to her. He’d thumbed the cap up on it, and she glared at him.

“I can open my own drinks,” she said. He stared down at her, inscrutable, and she sighed. She took the bottle and drank down a mouthful, swishing it around before spitting it out to get rid of the sour taste at the back of her throat.

“Classy.”

“Fuck off,” she bit back, sliding off her seat. Her legs, protesting the movement, went jelly on her and she pitched to the side.

Brock was there in a moment, arm wrapping around her waist, the other going up as his hand protected her head so she wouldn’t crack it on the jamb of the car.

“Darcy,” he breathed her name out so urgently that her heart  _ trembled _ in her chest. They stayed there for a moment before she got her hands up between them and shoved at his broad shoulders.

“Leggo,” she protested. He lifted up, setting her on her feet. She felt wobbly, but needed to be away from him, or so she told herself. It was a lie. She wanted to be all up in his business, nosing along the collar of his leather jacket, nuzzling into his shirt, curling her hands into the back pockets of his jeans… all of that. She wanted it.

She ignored and settled for wrapping herself tighter in his hoodie, burrowing her nose into the softness of it, inhaling his scent off of that as best she could.

“A friend will take care of the car,” he said as he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder. “C’mon. Bus’ll be here in a few, and I’m sure you gotta pee.” He started to walk off.

She stared at him, and then looked back at the car.

“Uh.”

“Darcy,” he said as he turned his head, his whole body tensing. “ _ Come on _ .”

The alpha order was in his voice. She couldn’t ignore it. She growled under her breath and dragged her feet across the pavement, sending gravel skittering in her wake as she followed him. The ragtag group around the bus station eyed her and Brock for a moment, but they blended right in with their nondescript clothing, and the baseball cap tugged low over her eyes. Even still, the smell of unwashed bodies, cigarettes, and stranges alphas pressed in on her. She found herself crowding against Brock’s arm, and finally he placed her against the brick wall, setting himself between her and the rest of those waiting for the bus. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

“What?” he asked when she stared at him. He was about to light up. She wrinkled her nose.

He made a soft, wheezing sound, looked annoyed with himself, and then shoved the pack in his pocket. The cigarette he was holding, he tossed and ground under his heel.

A small smile spread on her lips, unbidden. He was muttering to himself, too quietly for her to make it out, but the distinct words  _ fucking omega _ were tucked in there somewhere.

Good. Let him suffer. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the side of the station with a huff. She still ached, the bonding mark on her neck, the tender skin between her thighs. She had no pity for him.

The bus limped into the station, hissing out air. Brock somehow managed to muscle them to the front of the line, and she found herself tucked up under his arm. There were a few protests behind them, but he quieted them with a low growl, and she felt a thrill of  _ something _ trickle down her spine. There was something… something strange, about being in his care, because he was the bad guys, he was the enemies, he was the worst, and yet he was looming over her, fishing out bus tickets from somewhere in his jacket, and then he was pressing a protein bar into her hand and gruffly telling her to  _ eat it and no whining. _

She felt dizzy and overwhelmed, and it was only because his steady hand was on the small of her back that she was able to make her way to the back of the bus at his insistence. She wrinkled her nose.

“The bathroom stinks,” she said.

“Covers our scents,” he argued. “Last to go over the edge if we hit a cliff.” He pointed at the longer bench seat. “And you can lay across it and put your head in my lap.”

His final point won her over, and they got settled. The new bond, still tender on her skin and at the back of her mind had her wanting to curl up close to him. It had her wanting pillows, and some fluffy blankets, and to be absolutely naked with him, to  _ nest. _ Which was fucking ridiculous. She looked up at him through her lashes. He was staring straight ahead, his arm along the backs of the seat. She felt the urge to purr at him, and tamped down on it. He hadn’t  _ earned _ that right, to be comforted by his omega.

She was still super pissed off at him for binding her to him without her consent although she had a growing suspicion that the bonding had been not his plan. He didn't seem all that thrilled with it, but the bonding hormones running through them both was making him a hell of a lot more affectionate than he'd normally be. 

He didn't seem like the candles and cupcakes kind of guy, and yet he kept looking out for needs and her comfort.

He was making it really damn hard to be one hundred percent angry with him.

“So where are we headed?” she asked as she shifted a few more times, trying to find the most comfortable way to lay. Her stupid hormones were flaring up and she felt this… this need to snuggle up to him that totally countered her desire to hiss and spit. She was on a bus full of people. She could have shouted for help, and there were more than a few alphas in the shambling crowd who’d be willing to help a distressed omega out.

Then again… she eyed Brock’s biceps and thought twice. Maybe not. Hormones didn’t override a sense of self-preservation, after all, and a skinny alpha probably wouldn’t want to challenge him over his omega.

“Just hush and sleep,” Brock said, looking grumpy and uneasy as she fussed and tried to settle. After a few more minutes he put a warm hand on the middle of her back and pressed her down like she was an unruly, misbehaving kitten. She squeaked and found herself flattened against him and the bus cushions. “I said, sleep,” he growled.

Darcy squirmed for a minute and then settled.

“I hate you,” she hissed. He snorted.

“That’s too damn bad.” He squared his shoulders and finally took his hand off of her. She sighed and let her eyes slide shut as the bus roared underneath them and moved onto the highway. Maybe at the next stop she’d be able to make a phone-call, when he wasn’t looking. As she drifted, Brock’s hand came down over her hair, almost tenderly.

 

“So? What do you think?” Mr. Pierce surveyed the safe house, and the damage to it. Behind him, the tall man sniffed the air, then scratched his shirtless belly. Pierce tried not to curl his upper lip. He hated working with mutants. They were filthy, the lot of them. But Creed had a special skillset that would be needed in hunting down a Hydra agent turned rogue.

“I think you’re a fucking idiot,” Creed said, spitting on the ground. “You let him get too far ahead before calling me. And I know why.” He turned to eye Pierce. “I know what you’re thinking. I know you think you’re fuckin’ slumming it, bringing me into the mix. You didn’t-” He pointed at Pierce, jabbing one large, meaty finger into the middle of Pierce’s chest. Pierce tried not to flinch. “You didn’t want to dirty your hands, you and your fuckin’ blood purist Nazis.”

Pierce stared up at the giant of a man.

“I was told you wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“Well, maybe you’re fuckin’ wrong,” Creed said as he turned. “I’m out.”

Pierce fought back a wave of panic as the alpha mutant moved to stalk out.

“But the girl?”

“She’s not my problem.”

“She’s very… pretty,” Pierce said. Creed stopped in his tracks.

“She’s bonded.”

“That’s a problem that could be taken care of.”

“.....”

Pierce sighed as Creed seemed to weigh his options. Pierce pulled out his cellphone, and flicked open the screen, and shoved the picture of Darcy under Creed’s face. The large men let out a slow, uneven breath.

“I’ll do it. Three hundred and fifty thousand, in my account, by end of day as a down payment. The rest of the two million happens when I give you Rumlow’s head on a plate,” Creed said, slapping away Pierce’s hand. “And the girl is mine. You erase her records, and we have a deal.” Creed stalked out of the house, and Pierce watched him go, the feeling of unease leaving him as the mutant moved further away. He brought the phone up to his ear and spoke into it quietly.

“Move on Lewis’s files. I want them all blacked out. Every single one of them.”


End file.
